


Wicked Game

by Mangacat, silkylustre



Series: Wicked Game [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Demon Dean Winchester, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Party Favour, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Season/Series 10 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkylustre/pseuds/silkylustre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to thank the stars that his newly demonic brother has apparently decided to fixate on him instead of wreaking havoc all over the country, but he is under no illusion that life with a demonic version of Dean is very likely going to be… well, hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Spoilers: extreme dub-con/non-con, Full spoilers for the final episode 9x23, not quite spoilery speculation for goings on in S10
> 
> Disclaimer: Neither do we Supernatural and nor do we make a claim to its creative or economic profit. Just shoveling in the sandbox for a bit, we’ll give them back after playing. Promise.
> 
> These are the porny bits cut from a work that's shaping up to be big bang length, but it's designed to work as a standalone for now.
> 
> After nearly a year of work on the main fic, we are actually managed to post in May 2015. So if you want the Full Edition, skip this fic and go right to the second part of the series, this snippet is incorporated as is in the full fic so reading both would be a repeat (though I wouldn't begrudge you the experience *g*)

Download the MP3 [here](http://silkylustre.parakaproductions.com/Supernatural/SamDean/Wicked%20Game%20PWP.mp3)!

Download the M4B [here](http://silkylustre.parakaproductions.com/Supernatural/SamDean/Wicked%20Game%20PWP.m4b)!

 

\---

 

Sam is on his quest for his morning coffee, when a smooth voice makes him stumble to a halt.  
“Well, hello Sam. Just the man I was looking for.”  
A devious smirk tugs at Dean’s lips, while Sam just stands in the door of the bunker’s reading room, gaping. When Sam does not respond, he lifts one eyebrow.  
“What? No hug for your dear big brother?”

\---

Sam tries to play down his shock by infusing every ounce of confidence he can scrape together into his voice:  
“What do you want?”  
Dean chuckles, leans in until his lips just about touch Sam’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine when the warm breath ghosts over the sensitive area.  
“Well, what do you think I’d come back here for? The water pressure? It’s all you, Sammy,” Sam can feel Dean’s lips stretch into a wicked smile. “I want you. I want to mess with your pretty little head.”  
Dean just brushes by then and leaves Sam trying to keep himself from sliding to the floor. He tries to thank the stars that his newly demonic brother has apparently decided to fixate on him instead of wreaking havoc all over the country, but he is under no illusion that life with a demonic version of Dean is very likely going to be… well, hell.

\---

Having accepted his brother’s newly acquired hellish disposition, but not that he can’t do anything about it, Sam’s only scanned a few pages of the demonology tome before Dean is sitting on the edge of the table next to his elbow and flips the book shut so fast, he just has time to snatch his fingers away from being crushed by the heavy pages.  
“Ah ah ah, Sammy; can’t have you sticking your nose where it don’t belong and finding something that shouldn’t be found. Besides, you don’t need that because let me tell you right away that what’s in here?” He waves his hand from his chest to his face. “It’s 100% pure Dean.” Then he cocks his head lightly and lets his eyes slip into the bottomless black. “Well, you could even say, it’s 120% since I’ve ‘unlocked my full potential’. Once you’re no longer weighed down by all those pesky inhibitions and rules that are called human morals, it frees you right up to let the monster out. You should try it.”  
Dean reaches out to brush his fingers against Sam’s jaw, just barely missing his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and Sam fights to keep from flinching away.  
“Oh… I forgot. You did.”

\---

The continued apprehension of what Dean might do at any given moment is putting a strain on Sam’s nerves, making him feel like he’s sitting in front of a ticking bomb and slowly shedding all his protective gear. It doesn’t help that Dean will also pop up at random and unpredictable moments, teasing and overly familiar with a penchant for physical proximity that rattles Sam. It’s not really a level of closeness and touching they haven’t previously been comfortable with, but the way Dean does it now, it’s … warped, sensual and tender, but bordering on erotic, which throws Sam for a loop, even though Dean had stated his intentions so clearly.

\---

There is no reprieve. Like now, when Sam is trying to fix himself some dinner and suddenly Dean is just _there_ ; standing so close to his back that they’re almost pressed together. His hand snakes around to where Sam’s t-shirt is rucked up a little to slide the fabric up further so Dean can splay his fingers casually over the smooth skin of Sam’s abdomen. Sam tries desperately to keep his stomach muscles from jumping, knowing Dean just delights at getting a reaction out of him. He doesn’t let up though, settling his free hand possessively on Sam’s hip and burying nose at the nape of Sam’s neck, hot breath causing goose-bumps to break out all over his skin.  
“Hmmm, Sammy, you smell so good, I feel like I could just eat. You. Up.”

Dean presses in so closely with the last word that Sam can feel his teeth scraping against his skin. The spoon clatters out of his fingers and he lets his head hang forward, hands propped against either side of the stove. Thing is, the touch isn’t violent or possessive, it’s like the tender, unsolicited caress of a long-time lover. Sam thinks that he’d probably know how to deal with it better if Dean decided to claw his fingernails into his skin until he draws blood, but he can never, not for one moment, forget who Dean is. What he is. And it tears him up inside that he has to allow this easy familiarity as if it doesn’t bother him at all in the name of the game they’re playing.

\---

Sam wrenches open the door of his room before Dean can start shouting obnoxious come on’s and greets him with an irritated “What?”.  
Dean smirks and drawls:  
“Heya, Sammy. You know, I didn’t mean to run you out of the bath this morning. I really don’t mind sharing though, it’s not like there isn’t enough space for us to take care of business at the same time.”  
The innuendo is clear, but it’s no different from all the good-natured ribbing Dean has ever engaged in, so Sam pulls himself together and answers like he would have any other time:  
“Yeah, like I need to see your naked ass first thing in the morning,” before he shoulders his way past Dean into the corridor towards the bathroom.  
“Hey, I have a _great_ ass!”  
Sam just flips him off without turning around, ignoring Dean’s indignant squawk with an ease he doesn’t feel and pointedly closes and locks the bathroom door behind him. Somehow, they make it through the rest of the day without any more obvious forays from Dean and Sam manages to keep it together for another night.

\---

Sam rarely dreams of good things anymore these days. If he remembers at all, it’s mostly stuff he’d rather not, like the sound of skin ripping from flesh, the smell of fresh viscera, the feeling of bones grinding together into vicious shards. He has largely made his peace with it, wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cherish the rare occasions when his sleeping mind isn’t filled with the horrors of this and three other worlds. Right now, he is floating in a fog that is bright and warm, a feeling like lying on a couch in front of a fire while it’s snowing outside. There are touches, lips against his collarbone, palms rubbing up and down his sides, strong fingers drifting over the sensitive skin on the inside of his left thigh, a place that never fails to make his spine tingle. Sam doesn’t get a clear image of the person with him, just sensations that feel hazy and good. He languishes a while, half aware that he is dreaming, slowly coming up until he tips over from sleep into waking and trappings of his body become sharper, more immediate. His slightly faster than normal breath, the light sheen of sweat that clings to the hair at his temples and his chest, and the very obvious erection that is tenting his sleep pants where the sheets have pooled down around his groin.

Sam looks down his body with half-lidded eyes, moves his hand towards his cock before he hesitates, debating whether to wait for it to go down on its own, considering he might be playing right into his brother’s hands if Dean decides to drop in unannounced and finds him like this. But the last vestiges of the dream still cling to his mind and he’s been wound so tight these past days, he needs to let go of the tension _somehow_. His hand slides up over his hip and under the elastic of his pants, fingers slipping down gently massage his balls while he rubs lazy circles at the base with his thumb. After a couple of minutes, Sam scrambles with his free hand against the elastic waistband of his sleep pants, lifts his hips a little so he can drag them down until his cock springs free from underneath the fabric. He wraps his fingers around the base in a full grip and slides his hand slowly up and down, breath quickening at the feeling of his calluses scraping over the dry, sensitive flesh. Sam swipes his palm over the head occasionally, gathering pre-come to ease the way a little, but otherwise keeps a slow and steady pace.

It’s when he passes over a particularly sensitive spot right below the head of his cock that makes his toes curl and his eyes roll into the back of his head that he notices how the shadow in the corner next to the dresser is deeper, darker and _moving_. Sam’s breath catches in his throat and he freezes when a shape emerges from the darkness, broad shoulders and bowed legs barely visible in the ambient light creeping in from the hallway, but unmistakably Dean.  
“Oh, don’t stop on my account.”  
Sam instinctively tries to yank his fingers away from his crotch…  
“No, seriously. Don’t. Stop.”  
… and finds that he can’t move his hand.

Sam tries frantically to move his arm, but the muscles won’t budge. This is the first instance of supernatural power Dean has ever exhibited towards Sam; that confirms that he’s altered in ways that aren’t just about losing his moral compass or gaining the equivalent of some fairly distinctive contact lenses. Panic seizes Sam’s lungs and darkness creeps in at the edge of his vision as Dean prowls towards the bed. Every instinct in his body screams to run and hide from the predator coming closer and he does manage to scramble back until he is leaning halfway up against the headboard, but there is nowhere else to go. Dean slides down to sit next to Sam on the bed, his knee bumping into Sam’s left thigh and one hand coming up to settle on Sam’s neck, thumb idly stroking his jaw line. Sam has to put everything he has into keeping himself from turning away from the touch. Instead, he stays utterly still when Dean leans closer, noses the shell of Sam’s ear a little before whispering:  
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I could feel your arousal all the way down the hallway, just like I feel your misery and they’re so, so beautiful. But now that you started the party without me, you’ll put on a good show for me, won’t you, Sammy?”

Sam’s insides go cold as it sinks in where they are, what kind of edge Dean is about to tip them over, but he feels powerless to stop it. And apparently, his passiveness is not appreciated. His hand starts moving again, and not entirely of his own volition. Dean’s grin is mocking, his eyes wrinkled by cruel mirth. Only seconds seem to have ticked by before Dean’s commanding voice slithers into his ear.  
“Go on.”  
The sound makes his hand tighten, a groan slipping from his lips from the pressure while his flagging erection goes back to full hardness. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam can see Dean staring transfixed down the length of his body to where his fingers are picking up a rhythm again. He loathes his body even more for his reactions to this, the flush spreading on his chest, the slight jump of his cock in his hand, but he tells himself that if he backs out right now, their truce will shatter, and who knows what horrors Dean could unleash upon the world if he put his mind to it.

So he pushes his fear and contempt aside and lets Dean slide his hand down from his neck and over his chest until his fingers twist into the hem of Sam’s t-shirt and ruck it up to his armpits. Dean bends down to place light kisses onto Sam’s left pectoral, right over his thundering heart, before he closes his lips firmly around the nipple and sucks, while stroking the other with his thumb. Sam jolts and moans, hand speeding up involuntarily as the sensations pool in his belly. He decides he can’t deal with slow and languid anymore and adds a twist of his wrist on the upstroke that drives him wild every time. When he shudders and throws his head back, Dean slows his ministrations, lets his cheek settle against Sam’s chest and watches. Sam can only see the back of Dean’s head, but it’s like he can feel the eyes fixed on where his cock is sliding through his fist and it unlocks something inside of him he’d never even known was there. Suddenly, the rush is right there, immediate and relentless. Everything focuses and stills for a moment and then Sam bites his lip to keep from crying out as he tumbles over the edge.

His chest heaves with rapid breaths, heart beating against his ribs just as fast. Sam stares at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, tears clinging to their corners that do not fall, before Dean cups his jaw and turns his head to face him.  
“Oh, Sammy, that was… you were so, so good.”  
Dean leans forward to capture Sam’s lips in a slow kiss that he returns in a daze until his head clears and the full scope of what they are doing, what they _were_ doing sinks in. Sam wrenches his mouth away, unable to keep the horror of his face, but he only has a couple of seconds before the grip of Dean’s fingers on his jaw turns to steel and he can’t help but meet his brother’s eyes, which flicker from icy green to black.  
“Ah, ah, ah, Sammy, no take-backs. I enjoyed this immensely and I am glad we got to do it the easy way after all, but you need to understand who is in charge here.”  
Dean pauses and lets a devilish smile stretch his lips to match the black tar of his eyes.  
“You… are now well and truly _mine_.”


	2. Trailer for Wicked Game take 2

Wanna check if the 20k version of this fic is for you?  
Curious about what's to come?  
Let yourself be tempted!

Listen to the **trailer** , streamingly, right here:

Download the MP3 [here](http://silkylustre.parakaproductions.com/Supernatural/SamDean/WickedGame/Wicked%20Game%20Trailer.mp3)!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, as you might have read in the Author's notes, this work is an excerpt (we like to think of it as a teaser/trailer) of a longer fic that has more story, more angst, and MORE sexy bits to come. We plan to finish and podfic it once silkylustre returns from her much deserved vacation. So if you liked this and want to be updated on the extended director's cut, please follow the series link and click to subscribe to the series, so you'll get a notification once we post the full version.
> 
> Update December 2014: We're still working on it! Sam insists on telling the story by taking the long way round, and though we're pruning his rambling mercilessly, it takes time. We hope to finish early 2015 (March at the latest).
> 
> Update May 2015: The Full Edition is posted. Go read (or better yet, listen, it's fabulous!).


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